


Zombie Ethics

by zeldainhiding



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Cannibalism, Character Death, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Humour, M/M, Magic, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, Violence, please believe me its supposed to be funny, please it is actually humou r laughs, sue me i am using aLL the fuckin tags, this makes it sound so dark lov me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldainhiding/pseuds/zeldainhiding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>zombie AU with a twist… ft. lots of terrible innuendo (the brother-in-arms of Mindreader Sex)</p><p>~<br/>I lean back on the furs in the wardrobe, steadying my breathing.<br/>‘Although, just in case… It’s quite cosy in here. Wanna make the most of our final hours?’<br/>‘What?’<br/>‘Well, it’s not gonna matter if we don’t use condoms at this point is it.’<br/>~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zombie

_Zombie - noun_   
_1\. corpse said to be revived by witchcraft, especially in certain African and Caribbean religions._   
_2\. a cocktail consisting of several kinds of rum, liqueur, and fruit juice._

  
There’s a creaking as the door opens, and everyone in the room spins around as the music drops.

Not like, dropping a beat. I mean actually dropping out, just like the conversation does. Everyone in the room is silenced as the creak fills the air, and nearly a hundred pretty faces turn towards the great doors opposite the grand staircase.

Who’s idea was it to host a YouTube party in an abandoned old mansion anyway?

Vloggers are stupid.

And then. Then there is a howl, and people are suddenly moving, shaking, staring up at each other in horror.

‘No,’ a voice says, trembling.

Then they’re screaming.

‘I take it this isn’t part of the entertainment?’ My voice voice is low and fearful.

‘No, I’m assuming not. We need to leave. Now!’

‘What? Why? It’s just a howl.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Phil shouts over the screaming of the youtubers. ‘Oh god, Dan, you don’t understand!’

‘Then explain,’ I scream as Phil starts to drag me through the rolling mass of the terrified crowd. ‘Explain! Phil!’

With my increasing fear, my voice heightens in pitch.

***

The biggest YouTube event of the year. This wasn’t SiTC, oh no. This was exclusive- the party all the cool cats had to be at.

Phil and I weren’t exactly surprised when we got the invite (yeah, just the one. You would think that a business as lucrative as YouTube could be arsed to print two separate invites for the two of us, wouldn’t you? But no.)- I mean, look at our subscriber counts- look at my subscriber count. We were probably invited for status, as we’re not exactly renowned as lives of the party.

In fact, Phil didn’t even really want to come, but somehow it felt important that I brought him. Not just for appearance’s sake… But rather… My own ulterior motives.

It was about an hour into the party when all the fucking vloggers had the decency to put their cameras away, whereupon Phil and I promptly retired to the corner with the food. I put yet another bottle of beer in front of Phil.

‘Dan, slow down. I’ve not even finished the last one you gave me! You’re gonna get me drunk!’ he leant back in his chair, stuffing a macaroon in his mouth and rolling his eyes at the way I was bobbing along to the crappy pop music.

***

There’s screaming everywhere, filling the rooms of the entire mansion, the sound of fear deafening, so much louder than the thumping bassline shaking the floors beneath us as Phil and I run, hand in hand, hearts thumping and skin slick with sweat.

Ironic how fate gets you. I mean, I had wanted the night to end with Phil in a similar stare. Except possibly with less sheer terror on his face. And less clothes on the rest of him.

Oh fuck, I’m going to die single.

I still don’t even know what’s going on, and everytime I try to open my mouth to ask, Phil just glares and pulls me faster. I want to stop, because this feeling in my chest is like someone is stabbing me repeatedly with a knife, and my throat literally feels like sandpaper.

And yes, I am using the word literally correctly.

But even if I’m not, who fucking cares? I don’t have a clue what’s going on, and due to the fact that Phil is the world’s shittest actor, I don’t think this is a game.

So I just run.

***

‘Oh god, Dan. It’s fancy dress! We can’t go!’

I leant on the kitchen counter, chin resting on my hands as I smiled sweetly up at him. ‘Of course we can! It’ll be fun! And besides, people will question it if I go on my own! Remember how the internet exploded when you didn’t come to One Direction with us?’

‘It didn’t explode, Dan.’

‘Ah, it totally did,’ I laughed back, snaking my arm over his back.

‘Technically this wouldn’t be an issue if you didn’t go either.’

‘I want to go!’ I protested, and Phil shot me a sceptical look, ‘C’mon, you love halloween, and spookiness and stuff-’

‘I love sitting in and watching horror movies and eating sweets-’

‘So you see, we have to go together!’ I stuck out my bottom lip like a little kid, pulling the most endearingly beseeching face I could, which seemed to work, as he laughed, shrugging me off and walking over to the kettle.

‘You want a brew?’ I nodded, ‘but no. No fancy dress. I refuse!’ he was laughing, albeit slightly awkwardly, but I knew I’d worn him down.

‘Oh…’ I tilted my head to the side, grinning a huge toothy grin, dimple and all, in his direction. ‘Catch 22, bro. I’ve already ordered our costumes! In fact… The delivery that I had to go get earlier this morning..?’

‘No way, Dan!’ His mouth opened in shock as I nodded, desperately trying not to laugh at the expression on his face, ‘You- you- f- fucking little son-of-a-bitch!’ he half growled, half laughed, and we were both suddenly in hysterics, for some reason laughing until our eyes watered and long past when the kettle had finished boiling.

***

Does it make you a bad person if you frequently daydream about having sex with your only best friend, who just so happens to be in the room across the corridor? Because if it is, I’m chilling with the devil for the rest of time.

The problem is, it’s not just lust. I mean yeah, sure, Phil’s hot. I remember first watching his videos and just being like, yeah, would do him. (Then again - horny seventeen year old, you should give me a pass on that.)

But like I said, it’s not just that. And yeah, I’m saying exactly what you think I’m saying.

Dan no-fucking-homo Howell is completely and irrevocably in love with his best friend, and pretty much always has been. Even after it all went to shit.

When I say ‘went to shit’, that’s possibly a little harsh. I do love our relationship now. I love how close we are, I love that there’s no pressure. But I’d also kinda love it if we shared a bed every now and then, if you know what I mean.

I’ve been thinking a heck of a lot about life over the last year or two, and started to worry more and more that I’m wasting my time with Phil. I don’t believe in fate- not at all, that’s really not me- but… When I heard about this year’s YouTube halloween party, it felt for some reason that this was it.

I had to do something. And I’d waited too fucking long to waste this opportunity.

Halloween. Dancing, party mood and high spirits… Alcohol.

Tonight, I wanted to get Phil to realise he needs me as much as I need him.

Or atleast, that was the plan, until the.. The…

‘Zombies,’ Phil hisses, eyes widening and stubby nails digging into my palm as he turns back and drags me behind a side passage with him.

Opposite where we stand, Phil panting hard, me doubled over and clutching the stitch in my chest, is a huge portrait, its frame guilded and carved with intricate patterns, the acrylic cracked over the canvas but the eyes still clear and piercing.

I still can’t catch my breath properly, but there’s a fear paralysing me, and I’m trying desperately to reconcile what I just saw.

‘What,’ I wheeze, clutching Phil’s arm, ‘the fuck?’

Phil’s breathing is still rapid, but I now get the sense that that’s more from fear than the strain of exercise. Phil’s much braver than me, yet he’s trembling, face pale and eyes wide as if he were on an acid trip.

Which, actually, would clear this whole situation right up. I seriously consider the possibility for a moment.

Because never, ever, would I have expected to see Emma Blackery crouched on the floor in a wow-get-me-too-sassy-to-wear-a-halloween-costume-costume, face dripping with definitely-not-fake blood, and nails digging deep into the torn-open chest of Thomas Ridgewell.

She looks downwards at her prey, and then directly up at us, and hisses, ‘Mine.’

***

‘Dan…’ Phil said slowly, forehead creased as he held the cat ears up as if they were some sort of dead thing. ‘We can’t… Wear these. People will think it means something.’ I watched his gaze travel over the other fluffy costume on the bed, the stupid fucking bear outfit that was as embarrassing as any costume could possibly be, yet… It was worth it. I hoped Phil wouldn’t see through my plan. It was probably pretty transparent, which was annoying.

Somehow, though, I’d always been good at fooling Phil. I mean, I’d spent five years trying to convince him I wasn’t (still) hopelessly in love with him.

And he bought it.

But now there is nothing I want to say more (apart from, perhaps, oh fuck shitting fucking fuck). Because we’re running away from the Emma-zombie’s hunger and we’re running madly down this dark side corridor and we don’t even know where we’re going and I can hardly even feel the crippling agony searing through my chest like a white-hot knife, because all I can see are crazed red eyes and red hands and dripping red lips, this girl who I hardly know aside from her teasing me on twitter, suddenly there before me, not sane, not safe, not human. She was still in her shiny black heels and sarcastic black shirt that read ‘fuck halloween’, her makeup still perfect- eyeliner flicks smooth and orange eyeshadow sparkly, and that just makes me feel even more sick. Her face was pale and her eyes much more shadowed that I think I remember from earlier on in the night, and yet… She still looked like Emma Blackery.

I don’t even want to think about Tom. The mere thought sends a shudder of the utmost revulsion through my body, and I’m suddenly stopping, clutching my chest and heaving, collapsing onto my knees and about to vomit up all the food and alcohol I’ve consumed.

‘Dan,’ Phil’s voice is soft, and so are his hands on my shoulders as he crouches beside me, but his eyes are hard and sharp and scared, so so scared, and as he scans the darkness of the corridor around us.

The dark scares me more than the warm orange lighting of the corridor we just left, and even more than the obnoxious flashing green and red of the party.

My fingers rake the ancient red carpet, the smell of must and decay being awoken by my desperate scratching, the only thing I can do to stop myself screaming very, very loudly, because as long as I crouch here in the darkness, rocking slightly as I scrape desperately at this threadbare red grass, none of this will be real. Because it can’t be real, it can’t, it CAN’T.

A scream pierces the darkness, high and grating and so terrified that I know the only thing it can signify is somebody’s impending mortality, and I clasp my arms over my ears, about to add my own voice to the broken wailing before Phil has me, holding me tightly to his chest and whispering words I can’t hear in my ear as I hyperventilate, my whole body shaking as my safe, boring world collapses around me.

I don’t know how long the scream goes on, or how long Phil and I hold each other together afterwards, but I do know that it takes a long time for both of us to calm down enough for Phil to whisper, ‘we need to go,’ and for me to nod agreement. His voice is low, and breaks on the word, ‘go.’ Phil stands up, his arms still tightly grasped around me, meaning that he all but lifts me to my feet. Which is fine with me, as I’m really not up to much standing right now.

We stumble through the closest door, finally out of the darkness of the corridor as Phil scrambles about the wall before finding matches, going around and slowly filling the room with a flickery pumpkin glow as I collapse onto the four-poster, prompting a coughing fit as the action causes a huge cloud of dust to billow up around me.

Phil shoots me an almost-smile, before getting onto the bed and curling up next to me.

‘What are we gonna do?’

‘Use our last hours to create something amazing that will change the world and have us remembered for the rest of time?’ I prompt, voice slowly coming back as the flickering lights reflected in Phil’s sparkling blue eyes create a small warmth in my chest.

‘Stop,’ Phil laughs, voice cracking as the liquid pooling in his eyes suddenly starts to overflow, tears suddenly streaming down his cheeks.

There’s still music pounding through the walls, I suddenly realise, and it strikes me as how disconcerting that is. There are zombies - actual fucking zombies - I’m trying to blank that out, because when the truth hits me I know I will be unable to move whatsoever- and yet there is still music reverberating through every wall of this fucked up mansion. I listen harder, before recognising the artist.

‘They’re playing Fall Out Boy,’ laughs Phil, and I laugh in response, because it’s so ridiculous, so ludicrous, and we both sit there in stitches, wiping the blinding tears from our eyes until we’re left panting and breathless, my head pressed into Phil’s shoulder.

And then I look up, bumping my head into Phil’s chin, ‘hey!’

‘Agh,’ he moans, but I ignore him.

‘Hey!’

‘What?’

‘You said you knew something! You know something, and you said you’d tell me! About what’s going on!’ I grab him roughly by the shoulders, ‘What’s going on, Phil?’

‘I don’t… Know… Anything! I just-’

‘Tell me!’

‘Oh, right, oh!’ I know this place… Kinda. I think…’

‘Phil!’

‘Ok so, when I was a kid- you were probably like 2 or 3-’

‘Leave my age out of this-’

‘Do you want me to tell you or not, Dan?’ I look down, nodding, and he’s suddenly hugging me, ‘I’m sorry, I just…’

‘You were a kid..?’ I prompt.

‘Yeah, and this place- it was in the news. I remember, because my group of friends wanted to come here and investigate, but it was too far away… But, see… There was this crazy scientist guy, I think, who got himself locked up for carrying out all sorts of weird experiments.’

‘Oh my god.’

‘And… Dan… They said he had his lab in the basement. That’s where we have to go, Dan! The basement!’

‘There’s no fucking way we can get down to a basement, whether or not you’re even right! We need to get the fuck out of here!’

‘But… We need to cure those people! There must be some sort of cure down there- don’t you see?!’

‘Phil, to get to the basement we’d have to go back downstairs, and through the main ballroom, where the party was. Do you have a death wish or something? We’d be killed instantly.’

‘But Daaan, the other people- out friends-’

‘Do you want to fucking live, Phil, or not?!’

‘But-’

Suddenly a smashing noise fills the air and the sound of footsteps and shouting in the corridor outside us causes the feeling of panic in my chest to resurface, bubbling at my throat and restricting my breathing. I pull myself off the bed and grab Phil, who’s dithering, of course, and yanking him over to the only hiding place I can see- the huge oaken wardrobe at the far side of the room.

***

‘I’m almost definite that I’m the sort of person who will survive this. I mean, you watch enough horror films. Look at the evidence. I’m a beautiful, although slightly flawed character with great hair and lots of deep thoughts about the universe and stuff.’

Phil rolled his eyes in the dark of the wardrobe they were crouching in. ‘

During a zombie apocalypse, I’m not quite sure whether I’m in the mood for your usual crap, Dan. Then again, it’s good crap.’ I’m not sure if Phil is muttering to himself or me now, ‘Jokey crap,’ and he’s kinda scaring me, ‘Atleast you’re not bawling like a baby yet. Like you do sometimes when watching a particularly scary movie.’

‘Ok right um, Phil? Are you ok?’

‘Uh, no. I’m really not. Ok. So if you reckon you’ll survive, what about me?’

I try to make him laugh.‘Ah, you’re probably gonna die soon, you’re too nice and ordinary. And you have a really bad sense of direction. You’ll go and answer a door and be like, “hey guys, a zombie’s here to-AGHJK IJNOKNB” and it won’t even be you that I go on some mission of vengeance for or whatever.’

‘Dan, you do realise that this isn’t actually a movie. That… We could both die. Right now.’

When I finally looks up at his face, it’s lit by a thin stream of light coming from between the wardrobe doors, and drawn pale in fear. And I think my own must mirror it, because I’m suddenly swallowing back bile.

‘Shit…. Shit! Phil, oh my god, Phil, don’t die!’

‘I don’t want to die. And I’m not going to let you die.’

I lean back on the furs in the wardrobe, steadying my breathing.

‘Although, just in case… It’s quite cosy in here. Wanna make the most of our final hours?’

‘What?’

‘Well, it’s not gonna matter if we don’t use condoms at this point is it.’


	2. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ONE HOUR LATER

> Mine - pronoun  
>  _1\. used to refer to a thing or things belonging to or associated with the speaker._  
> 

It’s now approaching midnight and we’re in a taxi. We’re holding hands, tightly, cuddled up together in the back of the car, and at any other time my whole body would probably be tingling with pleasure at the intimacy, but I’m trying desperately hard to focus on the bright lights of the London streets piercing the black inky swell of the night and the scent of Phil pressed up to my side, and the sound of him sipping from the water bottle the taxi driver passed him- Keep it, you look pale! Make sure your friend has some too- because the more I concentrate on these things, the less I have to think about everything that happened after we got our of that fucking wardrobe.

Just to specify, we didn’t have sex in the wardrobe. The zombies ensured that.

But that’s where we are now- in a car slowly crawling through the London night. The windows are steamed up but I can hear a roaring of wind and a crashing of rain, and when I wipe my arm across the window pane, sending a shudder of sharp ice up my spine, I can see rolling clouds of sleet pelting the streets outside, the yellow lights reflecting my face back at me so that I have to squint to see the outside world.

As the window fogs back up, I exhale in relief with realisation at how safe we are, cuddled up in the back of this warm taxi.

***

I knew, as we got out of that bedroom, that we had been lucky. Lucky that those steel-toed boots had been in there. Lucky that zombie-Emma hadn’t yet noticed us. Lucky that we were big enough and she was small enough for a single hit to be enough.

Because if it came to killing or being killed, I still don’t know if I could do it.

And I’m almost certain that Phil couldn’t.

He looks half-asleep now, head resting gently against my side, but I know he’s not. Whilst I get twitchy and agitated when my head is full of thoughts- many a time has Phil found me pacing or talking to myself in my bedroom- he is quite the opposite. When deep in thought, he tends to fall into a quiet lull, where he pays zero attention to what anyone’s saying. Factoring in the point that he’s fucking deaf, I’ve given up trying to get though to him when he’s in this state.

Then again, we’re on our street now, and without me on the watch, Phil would probably quite happily let the taxi driver take him all the way back to his birthplace in Manchester.

‘Driver! Here, please,’ I say, digging in my pockets for my wallet.

‘I know,’ the driver says quietly. Very quietly. I almost don’t hear him over the thundering of the rain.

‘Sorry?’ I ask, shooting a look at the back of his brunet head before turning back to Phil and trying to nudge him back into a state of somewhat-usefulness.

‘I said… I know,’

‘What? Right. Ok- Phil, c’mon, we need to get out- Sorry, yeah, what is it you know?’

‘I know where you live,’ he half-growled.

‘Well yeah, I just told you!’ I roll my eyes at Phil and he giggles.

‘I’M TRYING TO BE CREEPY DAN, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!’

Phil is smirking at me, and I roll my eyes again. Yet again Phil’s weirdo-magnet is switched on bright and clear.

But. Wait..?

‘How do you know my name?’

And then he turns around.

Earlier tonight, PJ Liguori’s face was painted with a creepy clown face, which I had found slightly disconcerting.

Now, however, I would happily invite ‘Wiggles’ the fucking clown from earlier to my birthday party. Because Peej’s face- paint - smeared and smudged, the colours bleeding inkily into each other, white foundation mixing with the sweat and rain in splotches through the tips of his hair- is now terrifyingly grotesque.

But even that is nothing compared to the blood.

The blood that is smeared all around his mouth and dripping down his chin.

Who’s blood? I don’t want to know.

I used to despise nothing more than being unknowing. Not until tonight have I ever so strongly sympathised with the sentiment ‘ignorance is bliss’.

Phil and I both scream, and I lurch for the door handle at my side, yanking hard at the same time that I hear the thunk of all the safety locks on the doors being fastened by zombie-Peej.

My stomach is churning, and god, I want to vomit so badly. Phil’s face has gone an even whiter shade of white.

Sometimes I forget how long Phil and PJ have been friends.

***

‘You don’t think she’ll attract other zombies up here, do you?’ Phil looked down in sadness at zombie-Emma’s immobile body.

‘To put it frankly, I couldn’t give a shit. She could wake up anytime soon, we need to go.’

He nodded and we opened the door carefully, creeping out onto the dark corridor. Phil shut it behind him, straightening his back. I hoped he was feeling more confident, because as big as I can make myself sound when talking, I can’t deal with this. Not in any way. Considering I can’t even make myself go to bed on time, this is way out of my league.

We decided to go the same way we came, because we didn’t know our way around the goddammed place, and as Phil pointed out, the worst possible thing would be if we got backed into a corner.

Atleast the way we decided, we had an option to fight or run.

Not exactly enticing options, due to the fact that I am about as physically fit as Homer Simpson, and the only weapon we both had was a single heavy boot each. But anything- anything- was better than getting eaten.

We crept down the corridor, not running, all the better to conserve our (very limited) energy, and we miraculously reached the great staircase without incident. (The very staircase that, earlier in the night, Phil had expressed a strong desire to slide down the bannisters of.)

The bannisters were bedecked with fairy lights and pumpkins, fake cobwebs strung from one chandelier to another. I couldn’t see any of it. Just the streaks of blood running down the steps, and… The pile of half-eaten bodies at the bottom.

‘Dan… If all the zombies are as smart as Emma-zombie was… Surely they’d be trying to infect everyone else, rather than killing them?’

‘Why does that even matter?’ Why were we stood at the top of the stairs?

A zombie could come out and see us any second.

‘I think it does matter, Dan. I mean, maybe they can’t infect you…’

‘What?’

And then a pretty girl stumbled out into the hallway beneath us, long hair intertwined with sparkly stars and a stupid witch hat perched on her head, slightly shredded at the back. She was murmuring one word to herself, again and again and again-

We didn’t find out what it was.

Phil’s never had great aim, and so I wasn’t particularly surprised when the shoe he threw at the Youtube-singer-songwriter who’s username doesn’t even come up on my radar anymore - God, I’ve turned into an asshole - goes about a mile awry.

He stared at me, eyes wide, as the girl looked up at us, curling a savage lip. Yeah, she’s a zombie, I thought. Probably a newly infected one, due to the lack of blood around her mouth.

Not that there wouldn’t be any blood if I didn’t think of something to do immediately.

My legs were shaking and I knew exactly what I had to do, but it felt like the staircase was a pool that would collapse under me and drown me if I dared take a step forward. But time didn’t slow down, and suddenly the girl was adjusting, and starting to move towards us.

‘Fuck it!’ I screamed, running forwards with the shoe raised up over my head.

I’d like to say that I was fully prepared to die in sacrifice for Phil, but really all that was going through my mind at that point was a stream of swear words and praying that I wouldn’t trip or vomit.

And yet I did trip. Right on top of the girl.

‘Dan!’ Phil screamed,

‘Fuck!’ I replied, as the girl grabbed me around the waist and we smashed down the rest of the stairs together. I had no idea where the shoe had gone-

Oh-

Phil had it. And hit the girl gently over the head.

‘What the fuck are you doing!?’ I roared, kicking the girl off me as she tried to bite into my shoulder.

‘I don’t want to kill her!’

‘Oh for FUCK’S SAKE- Phil- are you actually SHITTING ME-’

Phil turned away with a squeal as the girl flopped into unconsciousness on top of me.

‘Right,’ I panted, ‘well done. Let’s go.’

I was anything but calm. Although weirdly, Phil grabbing my hand as I crawled up from the floor somehow seemed to help a little.

***

‘You’re gonna be mine,’ PJ hisses, and I’m trembling. Phil wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer. But he’s trembling too.

‘Peej, it’s us, please, remember us?’

‘Of course I fucking remember you, I’ve known you years. Why would I not know you?’

Oh dear god. These zombies really are intelligent. I can feel the same thought running through Phil’s mind.

We’re going to die.

‘I mean- that’s why I followed you. You were at the house. Party. Punch.

You are going to be mine.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ I moan, because he’s not making any sense. Phil’s arm suddenly shoots in front of me protectively.

‘Let us out,’ Phil says quietly, ‘Please, Peej.’

I try the door again, and PJ’s distorted smile deepens.

‘You’re not getting out. You’re mine.’

‘Why do you keep saying that?’

‘Distract him-’ I hear Phil hiss into my ear, before disentangling himself from me and shunting over to the opposite side of the backseat.

At the same time, PJ moves forward to stare at us.

‘I keep saying it because you’re mine. Mine-’

Emma looks downwards at her prey, and then directly up at us, and hisses, ‘Mine.’

Oh fuck. I don’t have a clue what’s going on.

I look over to Phil to see if he’s noticed, but he’s distracted, searching his body for something.

I turn back to PJ. I’m supposed to be distracting him.

‘So, Peej, what is it you want to do with us? Are you going to eat us?’ I hope I’m not putting ideas in his mind.

‘I’m gonna give you a magic show, when we get back to my place. I already have my clown outfit. You’re gonna love it.’  

In another time I may have sniggered at his answer. It shows the gravity of the situation that I don’t.

Phil is still messing with something, and I’m so so scared. What the hell is he doing?

‘So… Tell me what this “magic show” is gonna entail.’ I think my voice is shaking as Peej leans in to widen his smile in my face. I don’t back down- I need him focussed on me, not Phil. I have to trust Phil.

‘Well, Dan. I have a box and a saw. I think that’ll be my first trick. I’ll cut you in half. You’re going to be so impressed.’

‘Oh my god this is fucking creepy- you are fucking creepy-’ my voice is hoarse and he’s laughing wildly, and I reach for the water bottle that Phil has discarded on the back seat, because I can feel PJ staring at me and I don’t want to die by being cut in half- because I’m goddamn certain that Peej doesn’t have a fucking clue how to do that trick properly, and-

He suddenly stops dead as I unscrew the cap.

‘What, you fucking creep?’

‘Nothing. Have a drink. Maybe I won’t have to give you a show after all.’

‘What?’ I’m screwing the cap back on the water. ‘What?!’

And then there is a crash, and Phil grabs my hand and PJ is confused for a second before lurching forward, and Phil is scrambling through the broken window, his outfit getting ripped, and PJ’s hand is on my leg, mouth opening in a scream showing his bloodstained mouth, and I kick out, catching him in the face- and Phil is out of the window, so I try to pull myself through, but PJ is back, and angrier, and I throw the half-empty bottle at his face as I drag myself through the window, shredding my stupid bear costume, Phil catching me on the other side.

He takes my bloody cut hand, and we run for our lives.

***

There were more zombies coming out from the doors on the side of the hall where the party was held as we left the slumped body of the girl.

Apparently, she was just a starter. Not that either of us intended to stay for whatever the hell the main was about to be.

I stumbled a little as I started to recognise some (most) of the bloodstained faces, but Phil caught me, staring obstinately away from them as he dragged me forwards.

And then we were out in the open air, the rain furious in our eyes.

‘Dan!’ Phil moaned as we ran through the graveyard, (why the fuck was there a graveyard it’s like this is some sort of stupid horror film), emo fringes streaming out behind us, ‘Know that- know that- I’ve never had a better friend than you!’

Phil’s voice was low and panty and hot as hell.

And out of nowhere, Phil grabbed my hand desperately and pulled me forwards faster.

And then, I trip. Of course I trip.

(Gentle reminder that there are like 20 zombies chasing us at this point.)

***

We’re back inside, and there is something praying strongly on my mind, but I’m pushing it away, I’m pushing it away, because it can’t be, it can’t-

Phil is dressing the cuts that slice my arm, me sat on the kitchen counter and him stood next to me. And god, I love him so much. I love him more than anything, and the idea that I might lose him is just-

‘We can’t ring the police, can we?’

‘And say what?’

‘I know, I know.’ I look back down at my hands and at Phil’s head, ebony hair shining with the rain. Somehow he still looks good even after being drenched, whereas I in comparison look like a soggy poodle.

Phil finishes wrapping a makeshift bandage around my arm, and kisses the skin above it.

I look down in shock.

He gives me a hug, and I slide off the kitchen counter, heading towards my room to go and change into an outfit more practical. Preferably, if I was about to die, I’d rather die in skinny jeans, but joggers are probably more practical for running.

I stare at my wardrobe for a good few seconds debating this internal crisis, made even more difficult by the way that my mind keeps flicking back to the affection in Phil’s eyes as he kisses my tanned skin.

Once towelling myself dry, I pull on a black tshirt and my most comfortable jeans - I’ll be ok - before stepping back out onto the hall. Phil is stood there, also in jeans, paired with his gengar shirt.

‘God, Dan, you’re beautiful.’

I stare back at him.

‘Let me just,’ he walks up to me, and places a kiss on my cheek, and when I pull away he puts his arms on my waist and holds me tightly. His eyes are bright and he smells like rain and alcohol and metal, and not what he usually smells like, and somehow this is slightly off.

But then he’s kissing me, his mouth on mine, and I don’t have time to be confused, because my brain is going into overdrive, because Phil is kissing me and this hasn’t happened in so long and his hands are on my skin, working their way under my shirt as he pushes me into the wall of the hallway and I press into him as I move my lips against his.

What the fuck is going on?

I break away, panting, even though it is the last thing I want to do. But something is wrong with Phil, and the thought at the back of my mind is creeping forward, because Phil has never shown any interest in me like this for years- and-

I wonder if I’m dead.

Phil just pushes his mouth back against mine, and my arms are weirdly lost at my sides, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I want to wrap my fingers in his hair and bit his lip and run my hands down his back, but-

‘Phil, stop- you’re-’ I want him to kiss me like this forever. Like it means something. And yet… ‘How much of that water did you drink?’

‘What are you talking about, Dan?’ I can feel his hands playing with the hem of my jeans and god I want this so bad, but I’m so so scared that I’m right.

‘The water. That Peej gave you.’

‘What?’ He is undoing my jeans and then I can feel his lips on my hips and oh fuck-

***

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Dancing! What does it look like?’

‘It looks like you’re drunk, and trying to make out with an invisible grizzly bear.’

‘Well, who fucking cares anymore, Phil!? We’re all gonna die! We’re gonna die!’ I think at this point my eyes probably looked a little crazed, ‘It was all for nothing! Our lives! Our dreams! All that time I wasted on the internet when I could have-’

‘Oh my god, Dan, don’t you dare go all existential crisis on me right now. No. No,’ he growled between gritted teeth, grabbing my forearm and dragging me away from the gravestone that I had made my new dancing partner. Maybe I was still drunk.

And then we heard a loud crack over our heads and both spun around in horror to see a huge fork of lightning split the sky in two, causing Phil to yelp in shock and duck behind me. He was still grabbing my arm. Tightly.

‘Phil, get off,’ I whispered, voice hushed with fear and acutely aware of the ten billion zombies within metres of us. Intelligent zombies. The combination of the electric flashes slashing through the sky, the looming darkness of the surrounding trees, and the sharp pain as Phil’s nails dug into my arm brought it all crashing down upon me, if you excuse the poetry.

It was probably then that I knew. That there was no escape.

We were both going to die.

So maybe that’s why I chose the jeans. Because I knew that in the end, it wasn’t a case of what I needed to survive. It was a case of what I needed to die.

But luckily, or so we thought at the time, we made it a bit further down the road and eventually hailed a taxi.

This was my fault. All of it.

All I had wanted to do was take Phil to a party and get him drunk. I had forced him to go; just for the sole intention of trying to get back with him. I had been so intent upon it that I had just been supplying him with bottles of alcohol. We’d never even gotten to try the punch that everyone was raving about.

I moan, fingers tight in the carpet and head back against the wall, because no, I’m not stood up anymore, of course I’m not, and my hair is damp but I don’t know if that’s rain or sweat because god, this is better than I imagined, and Phil is sighing my name and it’s Phil, and-

‘Dan,’ he says, ‘Da-a-an, I love you-’

I nod, trying to take my mind off the party and the zombies and-

‘Oh Dan, you’re finally mine, finally you’re all mine-’

***

Oh fuck.

I want to vomit. I genuinely do.

Fuck.

I scream. Really angrily, pushing Phil away (painful as that is).

He’s a zombie. Phil is a fucking zombie.

I think.


	3. Ethics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWO HOURS LATER

>   
>  _Ethics - noun  
> _ _1\. moral principles that govern a person’s behaviour or the conducting of an activity._   
> 

We creep down the stairs into the darkness, his hand in mine, when I hear the hiss.

In my hurry to stop all of this, I’d forgotten the integral rule of every single horror movie ever.

Never walk into the pitch-black cellar.

***

Every single step out of the apartment was followed by Phil’s hands on my hands, my neck, my butt, and although I knew he probably couldn’t help himself,- (who can, right?)(god, this was not a time for jokes)(my subconsious needs to shut the fuck up)(y’know what this was originally supposed to be a serious fic and I well and truly fucked that up didn’t I) - it was getting somewhat irritating.

‘Please can you just take your hands off me for a single second, Phil, so I don’t go headfirst down our staircase? After fighting off zombies and evading death for an ENTIRE NIGHT, I do not want to die because you were trying to get in my pants on the stairs.’

He mumbled something quietly as I grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the door.

‘Dan, do you love me?’

I looked at him back, admiring his perfect blue-green nuclear storm-at-sea eyes, taking his other hand and clasping it tightly in mine, because if he wasn’t here with me, I wouldn’t just be dead, but also not me. Phil was such a part of me, and to see him here, like this… Tears started to bead in my eyes, and I pulled away before he saw.

‘Yes, I love you. I always have,’ I mumbled back, opening the apartment door and pulling the stupid idiot zombie boy that I was still, and would always be, in love with out into the swirling darkness of the night, trying to focus on the mission at hand rather than the sickness that flooded my stomach every time I remembered that if I failed, I’d lost him.

‘Well, we certainly aren’t getting a fucking taxi!’ I laughed, turning to Phil.

Who looked completely blank. Oh, Phil.

‘You know, after that taxi driver… who happened to be PJ… tried to kill us..?’

‘He seemed ok. Didn’t really notice!’ Phil said cheerily.

‘You fucking serious?’

‘You’re hot when you’re angry, too!’ he grinned, taking my hand back in his, as I had removed it when I started waving them both around in frustration.

It was kinda fun to have a Phil that fancied me so very much. Not that I was going to keep him this way. I had to save his butt. But still, I liked it. In a weirdly perversion of love.

Phil was all over me, and it was like a dream. Like the dream that I’d been having persistently for years. The dream that was difficult to fight, when I knew that it would be so easy to give in, right here and right now, and have Phil touch me and kiss me and maybe even fuck me, and him loving it all the while.

Both of us loving it.

When given an opportunity like that, for your wildest, most immoral dream to be handed to you in perfect circumstances, is it stupid to not grasp the opportunity with open arms?

***

Right now, Phil’s hands are around my waist, and I put one of my own sweaty hands on his. Only one, because god knows I need to try and keep my balance. It’s pitch black, and I can’t find a light switch, and these stairs are creaking, and my heart is pounding. Also my head, slightly. Perhaps my hangover is finally starting to come through. God knows, I fucking deserve it.

And then his hand is on my neck and I jolt wildly, losing my footing and stumbling face first down into the darkness.

And as I fall, every part of my body hurting as I slam into the splintered wood of the seemingly neverending staircase into the abyss that is this basement, I can think only two things.

Firstly, that Phil is in pain - I can hear his yelps as he falls too - because he was leaning too heavily on me when I fell.

And secondly, that it wasn’t Phil who touched my neck - because both of his hands were still hot on my waist.

***

We were kissing again and fuck it was hot and I just wanted him so much and I wanted him to want me - and he did. And it was my dream alive and-

It wasn’t Phil.

I wasn’t kissing Phil.

I might as well have been kissing a masquerade dummy with his face painted on it, or a drugged up fan wearing one of those stupid masks we decided to sell as a joke, because this wasn’t Phil. He wasn’t in his right mind and, although it hurt me to do it, I pushed him away for the second time, disgusted with myself for what I was doing.

There were people looking at us from all parts of the disgusting-small-hours-of-the-morning train carriage. It wasn’t particularly full, but that’s probably what made our making-out session even more obvious. I flushed when I tried to recall whether it was just making out, and couldn’t remember.

I had to calm myself down.

Oh. And so did Phil. I smirked into my hand when I realised I had done that to him.

He was muttering a word over and over under his breath, and the rush of heat in me was immediately extinguished with a tidal wave of ice crashing through my body.

The same word that Emma had hissed, blood glistening around her mouth.

The same word PJ had laughed, as he locked us up like prey.

The word that Phil had said, on top of me, delusional and terrifying.

The word that was stopping me from accepting my fate and letting him do what he wanted to me.

The reminder that this wasn’t Phil.

He placed a hand on my arm, and though I trembled under his touch, I turned away, facing the black window and staring out into the inky night, my reflection staring back at me in exhaustion.

In a story, Phil wouldn’t have got infected. If this was a story, he and I would save the world together, relying on each other, trusting each other’s own strengths. If this was a story, we would get to that basement together, and save the world. He’d sweep me into his arms as he realised his deep feelings of love for me had never really gone away.

Not this fucked up mess that was what I had now.

***

There is a hysterical laugh, and I recognise the voice, and I want to curl up and cry. Because it’s dark, and I’m sick of everything and I’ve lost everything, and I’m about to be turned into a mental zombie or eaten, and god, I don’t know which is worse.

I’m aching all over, crashed into a ball at the bottom of the stairs, and god knows where my own freaky zombie boy is, because it’s not here with me right now.

All I can hear is my someone’s pyschotic laughter, echoing through the pitch basement and I realise it was him who touched my neck, him who sent me flying down that staircase, and him who is about to kill me.

The lights flicker on, and my eyes are filled with blank bright whiteness for a good few seconds before I can comprehend anything that is going on.

The basement is a laboratory - dusty and disgusting and clearly abandoned - but a laboratory nevertheless. It looks exactly like something out of a horror film - wooden desks with deep grooves in them and black burns, bell jars and test tubes filled with all sorts of things I don’t want to dwell on, and just a few metres in front of me - a giant rounded shape, covered with a black sheet.

There is a muffled whimpering, and I try to raise my head to the source of the sound, every nerve ending in my body sparking with electricity. My head hurts, but I turn to where I can hear Phil, hands pulled behind his back and neck strained against Chris’ knife.

‘He won’t taste very good, any more,’ sighs Chris theatrically, showing me his bared teeth, ‘now that he’s been infected.’

In a fluid motion, he sweeps one foot under Phil’s, causing him to crash to the floor with an agonised yelp.

‘Phil!’

‘I meant to grab you,’ Chris hisses, striding over to where I lay. ‘Guess I grabbed the wrong idiot. How did I knew that you’d come here to try and save the world!? You’re an idiot, so it’s obvious - don’t you dare -’ He spins round in fury, kicking Phil in the face so that he collapses back to the floor with a thud and a choked sound. I gasp, struggling to pull my own painful body upwards. ‘Oh, don’t bother, Dan. To be honest, I’m already pretty pissed that I’ve not got both of you. When PJ told me he’d infected Phil, I beat him senseless.’

‘Chris… What the fuck.’

He’s striding over to where I lie - no, infact - to the dark shape in front of me.

‘Wanna see what this is?’ he smiled ominously.

‘Not so much,’ I moan, twitching all my fingers and toes, testing what would work, testing what I could do, in any way I could without him realising.

He pulls off the sheet to reveal a huge tank split into two - one half perfectly clear, the other glowing crazy radioactive green.

‘Know what this is? This lovely clear drink,’ he smiles, dipping a finger into the tank, ‘is what I found when I was sneaking around earlier! I didn’t know what it was, then. But I do now! Some freaky scientist’s own special brew. I think he was intending to create an army with it. But now…

It’s mine.’

He licks his finger seductively, and I realise my vision is blurring.

I really don’t want to die. It’s Phil’s fucking fault that I’m here in the first place - he was the one who wanted to save everyone, not me.

***

The grounds around the mansion were eerily silent, and my body trembled with chill.

‘Want me to hug you warm?’ Phil whispered in my ear, and I slapped him away.

‘C’mon, freak. Let’s go get you fixed.’

I grab his hand, and start to head around towards the back of the house.

As I suspected, the greenhouses were huge and empty and shrouded in terrifying capes of darkness. But there were no zombies, and so we were safe.

Tell a lie, there was one zombie. And I was letting him follow me in the darkness, but what else could I do? It was Phil. I couldn’t leave Phil.

It’s not Phil.

I could tell you in detail about the fucking weird-ass plants that that scientist had in those greenhouses, but this story is coming to its climax, so I’ll summarize for you;

1\. A venus flytrap that nearly ate me

2\. Some vines that started to strangle me and then caught Phil aswell when he decided to ‘come and save you, Dan! For love! For glory! For a hatred of vines! For love!’ …I kid you not.

3\. This big flower thing that pulled us out of the vines but then tried to eat us itself, and which we only narrowly escaped by choking it on one of my shoes. (Goodbye, beautiful spiked sneaker. I will remember you fondly.)

4\. And this plant with scary green glowing fruit, which started to hiss something under its breath at us when we walked past.

After that, it was pretty easy to find the entrance to the basement.

***

Chris places one long leg before the other, slowly picking his way over to where I am still lying on the floor.

He threads one arm under both of mine, and with more strength than I could have expected, drags me up to my feet, face pressed against his and body helpless.

He runs a finger down my face, my neck, my collarbone. His fingers are so cold.

He kisses my neck, teeth bared, and I jolt wildly, but he’s holding me too tightly.

‘I don’t like it when people touch my neck,’ I whimper, somehow reduced to the prey, the damsel in distress. The weak one.

‘Tough,’ he smirks, licking a slow line up to my jaw, causing me to tremble at the intrusion, ‘You’re mine now.’

There’s a growl, and a crack, and suddenly I’m pressed face down on the filthy floor.

‘Dan. Is. MINE!’ Phil howls, his voice feral, as he throws his weight at Chris again, and the pair go crashing to the floor.

I want to help, but I’m pissed.

Instead, I run towards the tank, leaping over their bodies, entangled on the floor together, and stepping up onto the stepladder. If Phil was right, there would be an antidote to the zombie-punch. I look at the two halves. The unassuming clarity of the poison that created this possessive insanity. The bright, impossibly obvious glow of its other half.

It had to be the antidote.

I look down at them, grabbing a grimy-looking beaker and scooping up a portion of the green liquid.

‘Before I force-feed you freaks this,’ I shout, causing them both to stop their brawl, ‘Let me just say something.

I don’t belong to anyone. I am my own person. But you know what? You’re both out of your minds, and I’m pretty sure I have a way to cure you right here. And you’re not gonna remember any of this when you wake up. So I’ll let you off.

But I like a good moral. So there it is. And now-’

I cry as Phil hurls himself at me, the glowing glass of green smashing to the floor. As he pushes me backwards and pins my arms above me on the wall. As he presses his face to mine.

‘Where did all these morals,’ he gasps, between kisses, ‘come from? You finally got what you wanted, and you’re pushing me away?’

‘Phil,’ I’m sobbing, pushing him off me. Sobbing because I don’t want to. Because I want to listen to him. Sobbing because a part of me wants him to stay like this. Because that’s so wrong.

‘I knew, Dan. I knew, all this time, that you still loved me. You just wouldn’t admit it to me until I ended up in this state-’

‘Phil, please-’

‘But I want you, now. Finally, everything you want, right? I need you, Dan.’

And now I’m kissing back, my lips hard on his, hands around his waist and bodies hot in each others embraces. It’s like everything is back, everything is perfect all over again. Everything I missed about Phil was back in my arms, his tongue in his mouth, his hands in my hair.

No.

Wrong. This isn’t everything I love about Phil.

There’s so much more to it.

I love the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, and the stupid things he says by accident that make me laugh back. I love the way we sit together and discuss bad anime and good fanfiction, the way he supports me when we go to events, even the guilty look on his face when I find him eating my fucking cereal.

I loved Phil, and I always had. But this was wrong. I would rather have the real Phil and never touch him again than a lifetime of fucking… this.

I grab him roughly by the collar, and pull him off, dragging him backwards, backwards. He’s starting to struggle, so I have to pull harder, because I’ve had enough; I push his face down into the green tank, holding him down for one… Two… He’s struggling, and I close my eyes in agony… And then let go as the struggling slows.

‘Dan.’

My eyes are still clamped tightly closed, body trembling, as Phil shakes my shoulder gently.

‘Dan. Dan, it’s me.’

‘It better fucking be,’ I whisper, tears somehow escaping my closed eyelids, ‘because I’m gonna be so fucking mad-’

He laughs. A Phil laugh, albeit nervous.

I open my eyes, slowly, and there he is. He doesn’t look much different - his black hair still tousled and his clothes filthy and face starting to swell up where Chris kicked him. But he’s wearing a smile I haven’t seen since… The party. Was that really only a few hours ago? It’s a cliche, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago.

‘Thankyou, Dan.’ He says. I realise I’m still crying.

There’s a groan from across the room, and we both spin round in time to see Chris clutching his head.

God, I forgot that this wasn’t the end of everything.

But it was, because once we’d forced some of the potion down Chris’ throat, it wasn’t too difficult a job to get around the mansion and help the others. Once they all awoke, they all remembered, to their own horror.

Some helped us collect up the wounded, some couldn’t do anything but cry.

***

The wind was icy cold and whipping my hair about wildly, but it felt cleansing. My entire body trembled with exhaustion as I rested my arms on the balcony, staring out across the mansion grounds and over the walls as the sun crept up over the horizon.

The sky was blazing pink and the wind was still icy cold when Phil stepped out onto the balcony with me.

‘The police have gone now,’ he sighed, resting his arms next to mine.

‘I know. I saw.’

A few people were battered up. But any zombie-inflicted wounds had miraculously healed when the green potion had been applied. I couldn’t believe it - it seemed totally ridiculous that people like Tom Ridgewell could be still alive. But it was all ridiculous anyway. Zombies? I had been pinching myself all morning, trying to prove it had been an insane dream. It was hard to think anything else

‘You saved so many lives,’ Phil cried, when he realised I wasn’t even trying to wipe away my tears. ‘Including mine!’

‘It doesn’t feel like any sort of success. This isn’t a happy ending.’

We watched the sky brighten in silence for a while, before Phil spoke again.

‘Dan, you know when we were at our flat, last night?’

‘Please don’t remind me,’ I whispered. It had been plaguing me ever since I had realised that the recovered zombies could remember everything that had happened. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t push you away sooner.’

‘No, but you did. You chose not to take advantage of me. Thankyou. Thankyou so, so much for that.’

I looked up at him, and now he was the one tearing up.

‘Why are you thanking me? I abused you in that state.’

‘I forced myself on you - no, I know it wasn’t my fault - but it certainly wasn’t yours, either. And… You stopped me. God, I owe you so much.’

‘I’m …embarrassed, Phil. I’m so sorry!’

‘Why are you embarrassed?! I’m mortified!’

We stared at each other for a minute in silence, before breaking out into broken, hysterical laughter.

‘Oh, god, Phil. I can’t believe it’s all over. I-’ and then I was sobbing so hard, hysterical but no longer laughing.

He stroked my back, ‘Thankyou, thankyou, thank you so much Dan, thankyou-’

‘Lets just… Forget what happened at the flat… And on the train… And in the basement…’ I cringed, hiding my face in his shoulder.

‘Yes, of course!’ He was crying/laughing again. But he was warm, and I clung onto him to protect myself from the icy wind. It felt like he was doing the same with me aswell.

‘Actually,’ he whispered, so that I could barely hear him in my ear, ‘In the flat… I won’t mention it again if you don’t want… But you know when we were leaving..?’

‘Oh, Phil…’

_He mumbled something quietly as I grabbed his hand and pulled him down towards the door._

_‘Dan, do you love me?’_

_I looked at him back, taking his other hand and clasping it tightly in mine, because if he wasn’t here with me, I wouldn’t just be dead, but also not me. Tears started to bead in my eyes, and I pulled away before he saw._

_‘Yes, I love you. I always have.’_

Phil’s voice is almost inaudible against my ear.

‘Is that true?’

‘Phil…’

‘Please, tell me if it is.’

‘Phil, I don’t want-’

‘Because I think I love you too.’

I stare back at him in silence, heart pounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you go love me at zeldainhiding.tumblr.com u are the most important i wanna talk !!  
> this was my valentines day gift to u all
> 
> zombieboy!phil is my life blood

**Author's Note:**

> thi sis so shit im laughin please love me  
> i live at zeldainhiding.tumblr.com please plea se


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